Retrograde
by Hagall
Summary: When Tsuzuki is sent to collect a soul alone he's pretty sure there's something strange going on... What exactly has Hisoka been keeping from him?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I have a DREAM of owning Yami no Matusei. Sadly, I'm not the only one who has that dream. Those of us who DO have that dream all know that should one of us ever get to own Yami no Matsuei one day, that person will be ripped apart by all the others. That is why we don't own it. Because we are too damn violent/possessive/frightening.

**Othela:** Against my judgement, I am now doing two fics at once.

I wrote this a while ago. The only reason it took a while to post was because I was going to try to make it into a oneshot. But then I figured it would be a very LONG oneshot so… yah.

Out of my new fics, this is the first I started writing… mostly to try to get some practise writing in third person. I know where I'm going with this – and with any luck, you probably will, too – but I'm not entirely sure how to get there. I have some bits more sketched out than others. In fact, I have a beginning, a middle and… two ends.

I'll let you know how that goes.

Hopefully I will have attracted a new group of victims. Readers. They're all the same really. Anyway. LET'S GO!

**Warnings: **Hmm… shounen ai (no sex), character death. I guess.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_He is sitting on the floor with a blanket around his shoulders. He is waiting._

_He isn't entirely sure what he is waiting for. To wake up, perhaps. For him to appear in some part of the room – like he used to – still speaking a sentence he'd started weeks ago…_

_He gives a wry chuckle. Doesn't know why, cos it hurts, doesn't know why he feels so raw, why the tears keep coming over and over again. Feeling sorry for him. Feeling sorry for himself. Sorry. Sad._

_A strip of old, yellowed paper wove between his fingers, soft and creased and comforting. His eyes unfocussed, the tears came again, and he buried his head in his arms._

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you. Forgive me."_

---

Tsuzuki was having a very, very nice dream. The dream involved an apple pie, which he was eating with great gusto. Even better, the pie was replenishing itself with every bite he took.

Heaven.

…until the pie sprouted legs and ran away.

The pie was laughing at him and taunting him ('Get back to work!') as it sprinted. Now Tsuzuki, not about to be made a fool of by a pastry case filled with sugar and sweet, sweet fruit which, for some odd reason, had Tatsumi's voice, gave chase. After all, the pie needed to know who was boss, and it certainly wasn't going to be eaten by anyone other than him.

So intent was Tsuzuki on teaching the talking pie its lesson, he did not even notice that the ground had run out under his feet and that he was simply running in midair… while the pie floated in front of him laughing a strange laugh as he fell, and fell and fell and-

Tsuzuki groaned into the floor. He had hit it with quite a thump and the room hadn't stopped spinning yet. Hopefully the sensation would subside sometime soon.

Cursing, he dragged himself up against a wall. Strange… the floor wasn't supposed to be so hard. And the bed wasn't so close to the wall. Come to think of it… where had the bed gone? And what was the bleeping noise for?

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and opened them. The room was most definitely a hospital room – quite a big one, too, and it only had one occupant. A large window was set into the wall opposite the bed, and on his side of the room, there were boxes. Ooh.

His curiosity got the better of him and he had a brief rummage. Books. Books. Lots and lots of books. Not his thing, really… it would be an understatement to say that he was disappointed but then was exactly HAD he been looking for?

He got to his feet, tiptoeing across the room (the bed was occupied and he didn't want to face any awkward questions, dream state or not) There was a door in that direction. There had been one near to him at the other side of the room, but it was safe to assume that that door led into the hospital itself. Again, Tsuzuki was keen to avoid questions unless he was asking them. He had plenty of his own already.

The other door led into a small, immaculate bathroom – nothing much to explore there, leaving Tsuzuki standing at the window, his back to the bed. The building was tall – he had no idea how far up it he was, but the city was spread before him; the streets lit and the buildings dark. It had to be quite late at night. The moon was a bright sickle in the sky, and the stars were out. It was pretty.

Except for the one problem. He had no idea _where_ he was, let alone _why_ he was there. Or, for that matter, _how_ he had gotten there. Tsuzuki took a step away from the window, looking himself up and down. He had certainly _not_ gone to bed dressed in his suit. So that meant what, exactly? He was _working_?

On his own?

When he was supposed to be _asleep_???

He picked up the patient's chart – perhaps it would give him some answers in lieu of a dossier – and opened it without bothering to check the cover. A quick glance provided him with his first bit of good news: He was still in Japan (where had he expected to be?) and the date was…

No, that was wrong. Perhaps it was a mistake?

(Perhaps he was still asleep and this was all a dream…)

He flicked through more pages with a growing sense of apprehension. Nineteen ninety six? The file started at its most recent entry and worked back… so… either the year was wrong, or the file simply hadn't been updated.

Or…

Tsuzuki continued through the notes and clinical language: 'Investigation provides no conclusive diagnosis… patient to be supported until expiration' – he was well into nineteen ninety five by now – 'Psychological assessment finds no grounds … patient refuses … uncooperative...'

Something about it all made him shiver. 'Supported until expiration' – what the hell? It was all so spookily detached… like no one really cared. At all. Then again, he had come across several instances of the patient 'refusing' to do something or other. 'Will not try' was another one that came up further on, along with 'claims it is too painful to…'. So the patient was either a total asshole, completely pathetic, or the doctors here had no pity. Well certainly not at this point. The notes were now into the beginning of nineteen ninety four and still going back. From his point of view, that was getting on for five… no, six years.

"Oh…" Tsuzuki leaned against the windowsill, looking towards the bed. Assuming that he was here to work, he kind of understood why he was here alone. This case was probably a little too close to home for Hisoka. But still…

"Why was _I_ the only one who was woken up???"

Tsuzuki paced up and down, checked the entire room twice, even under the furniture (such as it was…) and in the bathroom - half expecting to find one of the Gushoshin twins unconscious in a corner or maybe passed out in the shower cubicle.

He sighed and sat down on the floor. By now a partner should have showed up. Why was he being left to do this job alone?

"All right. I'll finish this and if no one arrives by then I'll do it myself."

The medical notes continued with more of the same – riveting reading, really, some of it near illegible, written in a physician's trademark scrawl. Struck by a sudden thought, he went back to the start, to flick back through the notes – there was a name at the bottom of each one and although most of the more recent ones were nurses'; there were a few doctors' in there as well.

Muraki's name was not one of them, so there was no need for him to run out of the room screaming… yet.

The sheet at the back of the file was the first – the one that had brought the patient here. Tsuzuki scanned it briefly – without a dossier it certainly wouldn't do to plough into this with no idea of…

Of…

He read the paper again.

Of…

A third time.

This was… this _couldn't_ be. It couldn't _possibly_ be.

The distance between him and the bedside wasn't far it all; barely even a heartbeat away… but it felt so very long as Tsuzuki got there. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. He had fallen asleep the night before, Hisoka a comfortable warmth in his arms and against his chest. So that couldn't be right. Hisoka couldn't be_ here_ if he was _there_. He couldn't have been here for… unless…

Unless _he_ was wrong and the year was right. Unless the reason for his being here was this…

He stopped beside the bed and looked down at his… his_ lover_ - it was impossible to see him as anything else. How had he not noticed him, not realised before? -working carefully, gently trying to extricate Hisoka from the sheets he had tangled himself into. They were wrapped around his waist, his legs and feet from tossing and turning amidst his nightmares. Similarly, his hands were gripping his head, his fingers entwined in – clutching _at_ – his hair.

He pulled off the sheets, shaking them out before re-covering Hisoka with them and starting on his hands, sighing as his fingertips brushed against a hot forehead. The sleeping boy whimpered, flinching away from his touch.

"You're burning up…" he murmured aloud, glancing around the room. "I'll be back in a moment. Stay there."

He returned from the bathroom a few minutes later with a small washbasin filled with cold water, and a flannel, but stopped in his tracks when he was hit by an all-too-familiar emerald glare.

"Get out."

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**Othela: **… and the first chapter is DONE! Once again, I will appeal to you for reviews - tell me what you like, what you don't like, what you think might happen… whatever. We writers (even bad ones like me!) really do appreciate reviews.

… and we don't bite, honest!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, don't sue. When I come up with something smarter, I'll let you know.

**Othela: **Avada Kedavra!

(_Takes it back, because she doesn't want everyone to die_)

Awwww! _(Hugs everyone) _I woke up to two reviews the morning after I posted the first chapter and they made my day (You know who you are!). After that, all of the ones were a bonus. They made my week :p

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_The lines begin to blur, and he's not exactly sure what he's feeling anymore._

_Getting up is a difficult task – his legs are numb, and he's not sure they're going to support him properly. One hand clutches the blanket around his shoulders; the other has the paper woven between them. He doesn't dare crumple the paper in his fingers for fear it may turn to dust beneath his touch – nor can he let it out of his hands, because he could forget what once was, and that could mean he could never come back._

_Letting go of that past was inevitable if it was possible. He wanted to hold on to the only security he had ever had._

_---_

"Get out." Hisoka's voice was quiet - not that he needed to raise his voice for Tsuzuki to know he was angry. He cursed mentally as the boy sat up, his hands resuming the grip of his head, as if to hold it together. "Please." The amendment came a few long moments, the voice a little quieter than it had been before followed by "You're too loud." and - even quieter still, so quiet he was clearly not supposed to hear - "Not that you'd care about that."

Tsuzuki sighed. He had known Hisoka for a long time, after all - forgetting to suppress his emotions was a mistake, a foolish one which his Hisoka would have forgiven him for - but this Hisoka would not. This one really was as volatile as when they had first met.

That of course made no sense whatsoever - Tsuzuki took a second to get everything straight. _This _Hisoka was - _is_ - the same one that had been (would be) sleeping by his side in three years' time - the person he had fallen in love with. _His _Hisoka. Just not his Hisoka _yet_.

He'd be able to think about what his own presence implied later.

He slammed guards down on everything so hard the boy on the bed jumped, turning his head to look at him.

"I… I can't hear you."

"Surely that's a good thing?" Tsuzuki was halfway amused by his reaction, watching as the boy lowered his hands carefully, as if expecting to have to clap them back against his head again. He nodded slightly, pushing himself up to sit back.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"If… if you're lost…"

"I'm not lost."

The statement seemed to make him uncomfortable – obviously he was aware of exactly what it implied.

"Then what are you doing here?" Hisoka's question was accompanied by a direct look – one Tsuzuki had seen countless times. He wasn't going to stop. Tsuzuki hesitated.

"I'm… I'm here to see you." Hisoka gave a bitter bark of a laugh, wrapping his arms around his knees as he drew them up to his chest.

"Here to see me? You're joking, right?" He leant back, regarding him for a few moments. "No. I'm not a fool. Why are you _really_ here?"

"Such a sceptic…" Tsuzuki tone was light and teasing, but his mind was struggling to stay afloat. He didn't like this, wanted to shake Hisoka out of this grim attitude, keep shaking until he was back to normal. His hands flexing at his sides were the only outward sign. He didn't know how to explain, where to begin… Hisoka seemed quite lucid, quite well. All of Tsuzuki's approaches seemed… somehow defunct when faced with the boy in front of him.

"I'm a shinigami." He wants to call back the words as soon as he's said them – positive they're the wrong ones. Hisoka arches an eyebrow rather than request clarification, and Tsuzuki is pretty sure he's not going to get the boy's trust now.

Especially after what he adds next.

"I'm supposed to kill you." Hisoka snickers. "What?"

"I don't know. Maybe I expected you to be… scarier." The laughter eases off again, his hand moves suddenly to his chest and his head bows slightly and his voice becomes a little strained - "You're pretty scruffy for a shinigami."

"Are you all right?" He recognises the signs – Hisoka has just sensed something, but not from him.

"Looking for an excuse to kill me?" A grim smile. "Not what you expected?"

"Frankly, no." In many respects.

"Frankly, you really _are _a disappointment." He leans back into the pillows, his hand still wrapped around his chest – and bolts back up again as if a thought has just struck him. The heart monitor trips in its beat before resuming again. "I have had hallucinations before, you know."

"…what?"

"You know 'what'." Tsuzuki ran his hands though his hair, agitated, as the boy closed his eyes. "At least now I don't have to look at you."

This wasn't going well at all.

"I'm not a hallucination." A responding smirk.

"That's what they all say."

"Hisoka!"

"Now if you weren't a hallucination you'd be a little less forward than that."

"Yes I would. I'm not-" The shinigami's voice stopped abruptly mid-sentence – as if to back Hisoka up.

The space he had been occupying was empty when he opened his eyes.

"Told you so…" Hisoka breathed a sigh as he sank back into the pillows. His limbs felt as weighted as ever, he felt ill, and fighting the reaction to the death he had sensed earlier had not improved matters.

"Shinigami…" His eyes drifted up to the medical equipment to the side of the bed, no longer fighting the drugs or the slur in his voice. His wry chuckle threatened to turn into a sob and he stopped it before it could. "Too good to be true…"

He should have known, after all. Someone like that… someone aware of his illness, someone – seemingly – willing to show sympathy, even salvation… someone who knew about his ability, his curse, and was able to help him…

He reached up a hand to stifle a yawn. Someone like that – someone for him – could not possibly exist.

"…told you…"

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**Othela: **I got completely stuck at Tsuzuki's general disappearance. Does it show? Before it I was fine; after it I was fine. It was just that bit. Sorry :p Oh, by the way, I'm hoping that I'll get ahead by a few more chapters of this before I work on my other YnM fic. So I'm not going to disappear yet, but I will warn you when I do.

"You're pretty scruffy for a shinigami."… I wrote that and immediately thought of Star Wars ("Aren't you a little short for a storm trooper?" and couldn't stop laughing…

(_puppy dog eyes_) Reviews, please? I can sell them on Ebay and live for another month.


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